Uncontrollable
by silvershadewolf
Summary: "Her eyes snapped back open. Her pupils glowed red. She smiled again—and this time, her canines elongated and her front teeth shrank back into stubs. Isabel concentrated, and the fire spread. Within seconds, the apartment was burning." Oneshot.


**Un•con•trol•la•ble (adjective)-**

**1. too strong to suppress**

**2. too unruly to control**

_**3. out of control**_

* * *

Isabel smiled.

It was just that. A smile, an upturning of the lips. A smooth scarlet arc on that pale, creamy skin.

"It's done, my love," she purred in Vikram's ear, voice like honey. Slow, melodic, seductive—but it wasn't enough, she could tell. When would it ever be enough?

Behind them, the flames burned on.

"The Cahills will never see daylight…again."

Did her voice take on a snarling, predatory tone? But Isabel didn't care about that. She focused on her victory, the feeling of jubilation in her heart, the exciting thrill only matched by the intense heat of the fire.

Her husband only nodded. "Come on, Isabel. We must get out of here before we're caught. The others are already leaving."

Without a glance back, he strode toward the limo, signalling the driver.

* * *

(.x.)

* * *

It had been quick and quiet. There was nothing more Isabel enjoyed than playing with fire—literally. She took out the lighter and prepared to strike a match.

_Wait—no. _That was wrong. She wouldn't stoop to using _human _tools before a kill. Discarding both, not caring where they landed, she snapped her fingers and allowed a red flame to take shape.

Isabel took her anger, hate, rage, jealousy, adding them to the flame, making it grow. It expanded, the heat intensified—at last, a large, broiling-hot _white-gold flame _flickered upon Isabel's palm.

She closed her eyes, allowing the intensity of her soon-to-be kill surge through her. She pictured Hope and Arthur, smiling, then standing protectively side by side each other._Or what? You are standing in my own home and you're trying to threaten me? _Amy, the repulsive brat, with her disgusting excuse for a nightgown. _Not teddy bears, koalas._

Her eyes snapped back open. Her pupils glowed red. She smiled again—and this time, her canines elongated and her front teeth shrank back into stubs. Isabel concentrated, and the fire spread.

Within seconds, the apartment was burning.

Isabel moved with an odd, strangely serpentine grace, making it out of the window in time. As soon as her feet kissed the cool cement, her glowing eyes faded, teeth returned to normal.

The killer joined her husband outside.

* * *

(.x.x.)

* * *

"The Cahill brats are ahead. Natalie and Ian are failures. Irina is getting very, very sloppy."

Isabel paced in Vikram's study, her heels barely denting the thick carpet. "Yes, dear," he muttered. "They're not living up to our expectations. They've failed miserably. Apart from the Lucian serum, of course, that was a nice touch."

"But it's _not enough_," Isabel hissed. "It's only a portion of the 39 Clues, and they've barely found any." She could barely control her rage.

"About the serum," Vikram added smoothly. "It is, of course, meant to be consumed…_my darling."_

"And?"

"Of course you are going to drink it," he continued. "But, as I am leader of the Lucian branch, shouldn't I get a portion as well?"

"Do you know," Isabel said, in a toneless, steely voice, "what I am going to do? I'm going to enter the Hunt, my dear. Assist our children…and dispose of Irina."

He pressed on. "Is that a yes?"

Isabel leaned over the desk and put her mouth on his. Startled, he kissed her back. A sharp pain pierced his lip, and he drew back, gasping, "Isabel?"

She was no longer human. Glowing eyes. Snakelike slits for pupils. Fangs instead of teeth. His wife drew high into the air, straight and tall, then with a startling, almost _inhuman _speed, arched her back and pounced, like she was predator and he was prey.

He died more out of fright than the poison of her teeth.

But she was not yet in control. Her rigid arm flung documents aside and knocked the laptop to the floor. It was a few more minutes before she was human again. Breathing hard, Isabel examined her arm under the light. A pattern of scales was just barely visible before it faded into human skin.

She was losing her hold on her humanity.

* * *

(.x.x.x.)

* * *

_She may still be alive._

Running so fast she was a blur, Isabel darted into the flaming building. The fire did not burn or scorch her; she was immune to its intense, boiling heat.

The roof had caved in already. Irina Spasky was lying on a piece of it, eyes wide and unstaring. A faint pulse, however, beat in her body. With a hissing gasp, Isabel plunged her fangs into the side of her neck and drank.

_It doesn't taste quite right. Not as metallic, not as sweet. Not stale either, but it's not…human blood. It's not any kind of blood…it's not real blood._

She jerked her head back. _Not real blood. _This was not Irina's real body…

On impulse, she looked behind her.

Perched on a section of burning cement was a _creature. _It was canine, wolflike, with arched hind legs and angled ears. Instead of paws were eagle talons. The face was a mangled, twisted thing, sticking out of its body and covered with scars and rivets and slashes.

The creature shivered.

That was what it _looked _like. But what really happened was—the scars and slashes on its face opened up, revealing a much more human one underneath.

Isabel screamed. The face of Irina stared back at her.

"Were you looking for me?"


End file.
